


Vices of Valentine's

by tenshi13



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Blushing, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-25
Updated: 2017-02-25
Packaged: 2018-09-26 20:54:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9921770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tenshi13/pseuds/tenshi13
Summary: Enjolras worries too much about Valentine's day, despite his loathing of the holiday





	

“I’m not having a crisis,” declared Enjolras, lying face down on the sofa, half hugging a fluffy magenta pillow. His voice was somewhat muffled.

Combeferre adjusted the newspaper spread on the kitchen table, absorbed in an article about striking action, and took a leisurely sip of his tea, “I never said you were, dear.”

Enjolras groaned and rolled over – it took some manoeuvring as the settee wasn’t particularly wide, but he managed to invert his position. “It’s an abomination.”

“I’m sure,” Combeferre agreed, flipping the page.

“It’s over-commercialised, over-rated and over-the-top. It’s merely a barely concealed sham designed to-”

“Enjolras.” Combeferre said, closing the paper. “What is it that’s actually bothering you here?”

There came a sigh from the sofa. They could not actually see each other, due to the back of the settee blocking the line of sight, but the open plan nature of the small apartment allowed them to speak easily, although this was not the usual set up. More often Enjolras would join him at the table of their shared apartment, drinking Fairtrade coffee as he drank herbal tea. They would discuss the news, the nature of the hour preventing it from escalating into full on debate, exchanging light-hearted quips and conversation.

Rarely did Enjolras make for the settee, and never to complain about matters that could just as easily be complained about at the table.

“I’m not romantic enough. I don’t understand the compulsive need to cement a relationship with worthless goods such as candles, chocolates and teddy bears.”

“So don’t, what’s the problem?”

“The problem is just because _I_ don’t want that doesn’t mean _Grantaire_ doesn’t want that. And I suppose most of the time it’s not such a vital concept but it is on Valentine’s Day. And you know how I feel about Valentine’s day.”

“Everyone knows how you feel about Valentine’s day.”

Enjolras groaned, “Did you know most couples break-up within three to five months? Eighty-five percent of relationships end in break-ups. It’s common to break up on holidays, including Valentines.”

“Hey now,” Combeferre interjected, “Who said anything about breaking up? You guys have been going well.”

Enjolras peaked over the top of the sofa, a determined gleam in his eye, “I will do this.”

“Do what?”

“I will do this for Grantaire.”

 

 

Enjolras stood in the flower shop slightly overwhelmed. It was one thing to decide a romantic gesture was the way to go, and it was quite another to actually orchestrate. Flowers, Enjolras presumed was the usual avenue, although now he was here there were a lot more options than initially expected. For a start, roses were apparently not the only flower type associated with love. There was Aster, Acacia, Chrysanthemum, Lily, Carnation… the florist kept listing but Enjolras couldn’t help but zone out. And then colour was important too. A salmon rose was not the same as a pink rose, which was not the same a yellow or white or red rose. Then there was flower language, which alarmed Enjolras greatly (does it involved verb conjugations?) and combinations of flowers. To combine the wrong flowers would not only look a disaster, but convey the total wrong message.

Taking a deep breath, he ordered the cliché, a dozen long-stemmed red roses.

“And how would you like to pay for that sir?”

Enjolras swiped his debit card.

Second port of call was chocolate. This was not much easier, but did involve substantially less pollen. The problem was that Enjolras was not quite sure where one was supposed to acquire Valentines chocolate. Personally he’d nip to the supermarket for his sugar rush, but he ascertained that for a special occasion it was probably a cheap cop out. He ended up at a quaint chocolate shop, whose existence he’d not been aware of until that very morning.

At least the type of chocolate was unproblematic, as Grantaire had a soft spot for dark.

Packaging however. There were as many colours of tissue paper as roses, plus the option for a heart shaped box, glitter, a ribbon? Enjolras bit his lip, planting his feet to stop him walking out of the shop. They charged _extra_ for each item. “Commercialism,” he muttered darkly.

“Excuse me?” The petite cashier asked.

“Have a nice day!” Enjolras smiled.

 

 

On the day itself Enjolras stood nervously on Grantaire’s door step, roses and chocolates in hand. A hand that was sweating slightly more than usual. He brought the other up to knock, a quick, no nonsense tap. He had not phoned or texted beforehand, because surprises were romantic, right? He was beginning to doubt himself. He wiped his free hand on his jeans, then shoved it in his pocket, then removed it so it hung limply at his side.

There was a noise from the other side of the door and Enjolras breathed a sigh of relief, at least he was in. Otherwise he’d be standing out here waiting ridiculously for lord knows how long. The door swung open, framing Grantaire as he stood, curls awry, clearly having gotten out of bed not long ago.

“Happy Valentine’s,” Enjolras offered, holding out his gifts.

There was a beat of silence.

“Shit.”

Enjolras screamed internally, that was not a good reaction, nope not at all, lord why had he thought this was a good idea someone strike him down…

Grantaire moved his mouth but nothing came out for a second, until the dam burst: “Why… You think that Valetine’s day is a capitalist scam designed to make people currently in a relationship spend unnecessary money in a fruitless attempt to ensure undying love and devotion, which draws and keeps interest by promoting an unreachable, unattainable fairy-tale. And that it cheapens the idea of love to reduce it to items that can be easily bought rather than expressing it through unique actions of love. You hate Valentine’s day.”

 _Oh,_ Enjolras thought _._ His cheeks felt warm, was he blushing? He stepped forwards, reaching up to swing his arms around Grantaire’s neck, pulling them together. “That is the most romantic thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

Their foreheads touched together, and Grantaire pressed a chaste kiss to his lips, “I aim to please.”

Enjolras sighed delightedly, “You succeed.”

“However, you’re really going to need to explain your thought process behind this one.”

If his cheeks were red, then he would blame it on the proximity. In lieu of explanation he angled for a kiss, their lips joining in passion. Enjolras’ arms tightened, Grantaire’s large hands gentle as they tangled in his hair.

The roses and chocolates ended up on the floor; forgotten. 


End file.
